


That's Amore!

by onekisstotakewithme



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Episode: s09e03 Cementing Relationships, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gen, Korean War, Male-Female Friendship, Period-Typical Sexism, Platonic Fake Dating, Platonic Relationships, the true lesbian-ace solidarity is margaret and charles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-01-31 12:37:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18591421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onekisstotakewithme/pseuds/onekisstotakewithme
Summary: Charles and Margaret hatch a scheme to put off a certain persistent Italian.Tag to "Cementing Relationships"





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blue_raven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_raven/gifts), [flootzavut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flootzavut/gifts).



“Margaret, who was that disreputable character I saw you with earlier?” Charles asks, forgoing the necessary greetings in his approach (this is where polite society has come to die, after all). 

Margaret starts, a fist flying up in defense with a yelp. When she turns and sees Charles, her hand slowly falls back to her side, though there’s fire in her eyes. “Not right now, Major, please. I have to get this coffee over to the people who are  _ actually  _ working, instead of skulking around the mess tent and scaring the living daylights out of the nursing staff.”

He chuckles at the jab, but his smile softens into a frown at her reaction. “Are you quite alright?”

“I’m fine, just very busy. And I don’t have time to chat. Goodbye Major.”

“Margaret, wait. That man early- who was he? I don’t wish to presume anything about your companion, but I can’t help thinking that you looked uncomfortable with him.”

“He’s nobody, Charles,” she says, going back to filling the mugs. “Just a patient.”

“Judging from the way he touched you, I’d say he’s a good deal more than that.” Charles places  a hand on her shoulder, and pulls back when she flinches away. “Margaret?”

“I told you, it’s nothing.”

“It’s clearly something, or you wouldn’t be acting as those you’d seen a ghost.” At her raised eyebrow, he clears his throat. “...Not that I believe in that sort of nonsense.”

“It’s nothing new under the sun, Major.” She leans against the table, and sighs, clutching one of the coffee mugs, inching away when he perches beside her. “I’ll be fine.”

To anyone who had not worked closely with her, this would be ordinary Margaret behaviour, but Charles knows her better than either of them would admit, and this is hardly ordinary.

“Did he hurt you?” Charles asks quietly. “Because if he has, Margaret, I swear-”

“Oh, no! No, Charles, nothing like that!” she says, clearly horrified at the very thought. “He’s really not bad, just a lonely man on the rebound. And I happened to be the first halfway-decent looking woman to cross his path.”

“Surely you are not making excuses for this… abhorrent admirer?”

“He’s not dangerous,” Margaret reassures him. “Just… persistent.”

Charles frowns, squinting down at her. “Persistent, how?”

“Well.” Margaret worries at her lower lip as she glances back up at him. 

“Margaret, I am a doctor, and a man of the world besides,” Charles tells her, patting her knee. “I rather like to think I’ve heard it all at this point.”

“He has trouble taking no for an answer,” Margaret says. 

His chest goes tight with anger, and he understands what it means to see red, his whole body white hot with fury. “Margaret,” he says levelly. “What is the name of this pestilent dirtbag? And how would you feel about me ruining his career?”

“Charles.” Margaret sighs. “You don’t have to do that.  _ Really _ . All he did was show up to my tent-”

“He  _ what _ ?”

“Nothing happened,” she says hurriedly. “Nothing improper. I sent him right back to post-op.”

“But today-”

“Today, nothing,” she retorts. “Ignazio just wanted a kiss goodbye. He was very disappointed to leave me behind.”

“I can imagine,” Charles replies dryly, but his eyes are fixed on her face. “I suppose the sole consolation in all this is that no harm came to you. But Margaret, if it had-”

“Nothing happened. Nothing  _ will  _ happen, Charles. He’s back with his unit, and I’m here. That’s the end of it.”

“And if he should come back?”

“He won’t come back.”

“But what if he  _ does _ , Margaret?” Charles asks. “Then what would happen?”

“I sent him away once. I can do it again.”

“But er…” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, unsure how to proceed with his question delicately. “You said that the man has difficulty taking  _ no _ for an answer. What if something should... should _happen_ to you?”

“This is the army, Charles,” she replies, her lips white and her eyes wide. “Things ‘happen’ every day to people like me.”

“To women.”

“Yes. To women.”

“It- It won’t happen again. To you or anyone. Not if I can help it, anyway.”

“You’re going to take on the whole United States army?” Margaret asks, clearly torn between being amused and being annoyed. “You can’t cure the entire system of disease, Charles.”

“No,” Charles replies, his mind made up, “but I can quash one symptom. A foreign body, if you will.”

After a delicate silence, Margaret laughs, and it’s a relief to see. “Was that a joke?”

“Yes?” Charles says, and hesitates. “If it was in poor taste, I apologize.”

“No need,” she reassures, “Don’t worry about me, Charles. I still have a trick or two up my sleeve for dealing with that type of man. If he comes back, I’ll think of something.”

“Yes… and should that fail, you do have me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Margaret asks. “You’re going to bribe him or something?”

“Well, Margaret, knowing what I do of the male of the species, I do believe that…  _ villain  _ may back off if he knew you were spoken for.”

“Yeah?” she asks. “And who would speak for me, Charles? Because if you're thinking of Captain Pierce-”

“Don't be ridiculous, Margaret. I myself would speak for you,” he says, entirely seriously, and tries not to hide the pang of hurt when she laughs.

“Oh don’t be ridiculous, Charles.” When she sees that he isn’t laughing, she frowns. “Oh my God. You’re actually serious about this?”

“Most certainly.”

“But you- you don’t. You can’t!”

“Why not? I am not otherwise engaged presently... at least to my knowledge.”

“But you don’t… Charles, I don’t know how I need to point this out, but you’re not in love with me. And even putting aside romantic feelings, we’re not, um. _Together_.”

“No,” he agrees, his mouth twisting into a smile. “But  _ he  _ doesn’t know that.”

She blinks at him for a second, entirely still, and then a smile blossoms. “No... No, he doesn’t.”


	2. Two

Margaret has met a few handsy generals in her time, a few officers who just couldn’t understand when she wasn’t interested in them, and some of them had a tendency to get grabby when they didn’t get their way. 

She’s heard similar stories from other nurses and female officers and Red Cross workers, from here to Tokyo to back in the States. It’s nothing new. 

It doesn’t mean it makes it easier.

Especially when Ignazio pops up like a ghost in the darkness of the compound, looming over her (and Charles calling him ‘disreputable’ suddenly seems quite apt). “ _ Carissima _ !”

She yelps, and the tray of coffee crashes to the ground, and it hits her so very acutely that she’s alone in the darkness with this man, and her heart is a battering ram in her chest. 

“I have returned!” Ignazio pronounces. 

“Ignazio,” she says, still stunned. “What are you  _ doing _ here? You’re supposed to be back with your unit!”

“You know why I’m here,” he says, grinning beneath his mustache, and if he started twirling the end of it right now, he’d be just the kind of villain Charles thinks he is.

_ Oh God,  _ she thinks, looking around in vain.  _ Charles.  _

“Your lips they say ‘go away’,” he says, reaching for her and ignoring when she tries to pull away, “but your eyes they say ‘go AWOL.”

“No, Ignazio. No.” She pulls away and bends down to start picking up the shards of coffee mug, biting back a curse when the sharp edge of one bites into her finger. 

“Come with me to Napoli,  _ mi cuore _ .”

“Oh, Ignazio,  _ please _ ,” she says, trying not to look at the smear of red blood on white porcelain . 

“I give you love, I give you _bambinos_ , I give you  _ happiness _ , I give you… more _bambinos_.”

The look of affection on his face could so easily turn malicious, so she tries her best to distract him. “Do you know you could be  _ arrested  _ for this?”

“Already I am being held prisoner by my love for you,” he says weakly.

_ That makes two of us. _

“Ignazio, look, I fixed your leg. Now get up on it and walk back to your unit!”

“Why for you talk like this to me, the man you love?” he asks, anguished.

“I don’t love you!” she blurts out, and the anxiety that’s been steadily gnawing at her all day turns to a lump of ice in the pit of her stomach, and she holds her breath in anticipation.

“Ah, then there can only be one answer. Somewhere is another man, no?”

“Yes,” she says decisively.  _ Plan B it is, God help us both.  _ “That’s it. There’s- there’s another man.”

“Ah, A De Simone is always the last to know,” he laments. “You love him deeply, no?”

“Oh,” she says, and it’s almost sincere, “with all my heart and soul.”

“Who is he?” Ignazio asks. “This lucky man?”

“Oh,” Margaret says weakly, and hopes that her protests will be enough. “I’d rather not say.”

“You must! Oh now, fear not for his life, I carry no grudge!” Ignazio says, seeing her hesitate. “I just want to know what kind of man he is can take you from me.”

“He’s a wonderful man,” Margaret says. “Brilliant and… and handsome. But I still can’t-”

“If you tell me, I go back to my unit with my heart at peace.” When he sees that she’s considering it, he nods. “ _ Si.  _ I will.”

And thank God, oh thank God, there’s Charles, whistling some Italian opera in his usual tongue-in-cheek manner as he walks past with his caution signs.

“Him,” she says, pointing. “Dr. Winchester.”

“ _ Him _ ?” Ignazio repeats, disgusted, and it angers her, how quickly he dismisses Charles as a threat. “The man with the Bocce ball head?”

“Oh,” she says, and it’s not a lie. “Charles is a  _ wonderful  _ man.”

And then Charles sees the two of them, locked in this ridiculous tableau, and hurries over. “Margaret, my dear, is everything all right?” he asks, concerned, and she thinks somewhere deep down that the concern isn’t entirely an act. “Who  _ is  _ this man?”

“The man they call Winchest!” Ignazio says, sizing Charles up. “This woman, she love you so big, and you do not love her back!”

“I don’t?” Charles asks, and takes Margaret’s hands in his own, oddly gentle despite how foreign the gesture is. “Were  _ you  _ aware of this, Margaret?”

He gives her a reassuring nod, and she relaxes a little bit. “Ignazio,” she says, turning back to the affronted Italian. “I’ve been seeing Charles for some time now.”

“Why did you say nothing of this to me?” Ignazio asks. 

“Well… you see, it’s a secret.”

“You are ashamed to love this woman?” Ignazio demands of Charles.

“Ashamed? Don’t be  _ absurd,  _ my good man. How could I be ashamed of such a marvellous creature? If anything, she should be ashamed to be seen with me.” Charles smirks. “Bocce ball head and all.”

“Then  _ why  _ is it secret?  _ Amore  _ should not be trapped, but to be free! She deserves to be a treasure, a pearl of a woman like  _ Margarita _ ,” Ignazio tells him. “You act as if she is- is a  _ shame _ .”

“Surely even a lowly foot soldier understands that such a relationship would be frowned upon by our superiors.”

Ignazio grimaces, and Margaret has to hide a smile. “Things are fine, darling,” she says to Charles in an attempt to derail the conversation before it falls further into absurdity. The long-disused word is heavy on her tongue, and he makes a face that on a less dignified man would be characterized as a grin. “Ignazio here was just leaving.”

“I warn you, Winchest, be good to  _ Margarita _ , or I will come behind and make you have many regrets,” Ignazio warns. “If this woman, she is dishonored if she sheds one drop of tear because of you…”

“You are hardly in a position to make threats, Corpsman. I've called the MPs to escort you back to your unit,” Charles says calmly. “And allow me to offer you a warning: if you _ever_ step foot in this compound again, or go anywhere near Major Houlihan, I shall see to it that you leave in a  _ shroud _ . Do I make myself clear?” His voice is softly venomous in a way that makes Margaret shiver, his arm wrapped around her shoulder a steadying force.

“ _ Si, _ ” Ignazio says. 

Charles smiles, as the MPs arrive at last. “In that case, _a_ _ rrivederci,  _ Corpsman.”

As the MPs escort Ignazio out of the compound, Margaret turns to Charles. “I can’t thank you enough, Charles. And I’m…”

He cuts her off. “Think nothing of it, my dear.”

He pulls her into a gentle embrace, and she manages to relax, pressing her head against his chest. She doesn’t know if she remembers ever being held like this by Charles, and she has to smile to herself, despite the shakiness that’s settled in her limbs, a live current under the skin.

“It’s all right now, Margaret. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, in between soothing noises that Margaret is sure she's heard Potter use on Sophie when she's startled.  They stand like that for several seconds, before Charles kisses the top of her head, and pulls away, all business. “Now, let’s get you over to the hospital so I can bandage that combat injury of yours.”

With a shaky laugh, she allows him to pull her towards the hospital.

~

As he disinfects and bandages her finger, he’s still whistling his Italian opera, completely business, but entirely at ease.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” she starts again.

He looks up. “Thank me? For what?”

“For being a hero,” she teases. “For play-acting as  _ mi amore _ .”

“Very funny, Margaret,” he says, as he finishes with the bandage. “It goes entirely against my sensibilities to  _ not  _ protect the people I care about.”

“And we’re all the better for it.” She reaches out and squeezes it. “I mean it, Charles. Thank you.”

He holds up her hand, and presses a gentle kiss to the back of her hand, and then another to the white bandage covering the offending digit. “My prescription.”

“Thank you,” she says with a smile, as he clears up. “Charles… can I ask…?”

“You want to know why I offered,” Charles says. “To act as your paramour.”

“Well now that you mention it…” 

Charles shrugs. “It’s very simple, Margaret. I hate Italians.”

All Margaret can do is laugh, because they both know that’s not it. “My knight in shining armour.”

He answers with a grin of his own. “ _ Mi amore. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Blue, for the encouragement and for giving me a "Hell yeah!" when I said "What about platonic fake dating" ♥


End file.
